I hate them.
And if you’re young, rich and white, I probably hate you too.
Why? Because rich white people in and around Schenectady (and in this case, rich means anyone middle class or higher) are so fucking rude.
They drive their fancy Escalades and BMWs through the ghetto every morning to… I don’t know what. Make themselves feel superior?
They’re petrified of us. Of me, especially, because I’m white living in one of the poorest parts of our state. And that makes me a freak of nature to them. More dangerous than even the most dangerous black person! Cause in their mind, I’m white so I must be capable of pulling myself out of this hell hole we call home. I must just want to be here. I choose this hand-to-mouth life. Never mind that M and I bust our asses trying to get out of here. We’re white so we’re just not living up to our potential.
And don’t tell me rich white people don’t think that way. My parents were rich white people before their divorce. They definitely think that way. So do all their friends. And I remember them driving around all the bad neighborhoods. Even if going through was faster.
Which is why I don’t understand why the rich white people from the giant, monolith mansions out in the country drive through my neighborhood to get to work. There’s a million ways around. And some of them are faster than going through!
Why on Earth would you want to drive through a neighborhood that is so downtrodden and dangerous-looking, with your doors locked and your knees knocking, feeling contempt for every person you pass, when you can go around?
Unless the answer really is that rich white people need us poor folk to stand on. Not just financially, but mentally and emotionally, too.
But you know, I’m sick of offering my back for these assholes. Especially after mornings like this one.
It’s storming. Downpouring.
It wasn’t when I left the house, and looked like it wasn’t going to for a while, so I didn’t grab an umbrella or throw on a jacket or anything. So, naturally, I get across the street from my house on the way back and the sky opens up. And just as drops the size of Mississippi start falling on my head, the light on the corner goes green and the mile of old rich white people and their cars starts coming toward me.
I didn’t have time to dart across the street. People around here are in a massive hurry and there was only about ten yards between me and the stop light. They were on me before I even thought to try.
So you’d think: Downpour + person on the side of the road w/o umbrella or jacket = cars stopping to let said person cross, right? Wrong! Not only did these assholes just keep driving and refuse to let me cross, they stared at me, mouths all screwed up in contemptuous grimaces, eyes narrowed in disgust as they passed.
Bitch, you see me trying to cross the street in a downpour with no umbrella. You can’t stop your car so I can get out of the rain?
Every time I see you assholes drive through my neighborhood, I realize just how right the “angry black man”, as you so haughtily put it, is about you. And I start to understand why there are riots on the streets every weekend. Why the amount of robberies and murders is going up around here. Why my previously mostly quiet neighborhood – if one excludes the occasional parties at the bar across the street and the friends accidentally bumping into each other at the liquor store – is suddenly lit up with gunfire and huge brawls in the middle of the road.
You’re so high up on your pedestals that you can’t see us bent over, damn near crushed under your weight, holding the fucking thing up.
There was no reason for you assholes to leave me standing in the rain. The next light was red for fucks sake. And it didn’t turn green again until well after I was already in my house. And you wonder why we hate you.
What ever happened to helping your fellow man? Thinking of others before yourself? Hell, just thinking of something besides yourself?
Seriously, America. Wake. the fuck. up.
Oh, and if we’re friends, and you’re a rich white person? Obviously I don’t mean you. Duh!